For Murder — or Worse

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It happened just like this, and I want to state with the utmost emphasis that I was minding my own business. Except when I find it necessary to exert my rather unique gift of salesmanship, I am by nature shy and retiring. I have been employed for some time by the Idle Hour Novelties Company. Mr. Max Idelhaur, my employer, trusts me with the introduction of new products to our distributor areas.

At the time this trouble started I was on my way west to our distributor area seven, which includes Pacific City and some fifty miles of coast line. I was traveling on the Red Chieftain, a train which I usually find to be very comfortable and suited to my purposes. I spent considerable time en route studying my ‘gag’ book. Mr. Max Idelhaur has frequently criticised me on the basis that I seem to lack a sense of humor. He seems to feel that a person in my position — introducing novelties to the trade — should be somewhat of a jokester. Thus I have been attempting to remedy this deficiency by copying down what show people, I believe, call ‘bits of business.’

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